


The Necromancer of Rawley Wood

by icarus_chained



Category: Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, Original Work
Genre: Adoption, Adventurers, Dark Fantasy, Fantasy, Found Family, Gen, Ghosts, Half-Elves, Halflings, Happy Ending, Hauntings, Horror, Humans, Necromancers, Original Fiction, Racism, Tieflings, Torches and pitchforks, Truth and Lies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:41:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23553985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: Three battered adventures in need of sleep and repairs wind up in the small, grim, backwater town of Rawley. Rawley is a town with a problem. Rawley is a town that won't let them leave withoutfixingthe problem. So, rather against their will, they find themselves going looking for the supposed Necromancer of Rawley Wood.
Comments: 28
Kudos: 97
Collections: I give up.





	The Necromancer of Rawley Wood

**Author's Note:**

> Dramatis Personae:  
> Alke Fresenius, Half-Elven Paladin of Redemption  
> Marcus Leyen, Baron of Murkenvale, Human Lore Bard  
> Laia Highgallow, Lightfoot Halfling Thief  
> Absolution John Rolfe, ‘Necromancer’, Tiefling Abjuration Wizard

Laia glanced surreptitiously around the dark, candlelit taproom of the Bird and Boar. The town’s finest inn, by all accounts, for all that said about it. The taproom wouldn’t encourage anyone. It was a grim bloody room, full of grim bloody people. The crackling fire along the south wall only barely lifted the mood. To ‘dour’ rather than ‘funereal’, maybe. 

Lady’s Fingers, but Rawley was a grim bloody hole. Even by _her_ standards, and possibly the Lady’s too.

She grimaced, huddling back further into their booth and hiding behind her pint. And Marcus, to an extent. Marcus was useful like that. A great big human with a great big smile to hide behind. Not necessarily the most useful in a fight, that was where you hid behind _Alke_ , but great for grim, suspicious human towns where everyone looked at every stranger like they were about to pull a knife and murder them in the street. As though anyone would be that tacky. As a halfling, Laia didn’t get the worst of it, not by a long shot, but she got her share, and even Alke got a touch as well. 

But then Marcus would step in, Marcus would smile and soothe, that understanding expression on his face, and somehow it would all fade away. Or the worst of it, at least.

Helped that the man practically oozed ‘old nobility’. Down on his luck old nobility, admittedly, but still. The old families still counted for something in a lot of places. Probably more than they should. She wouldn’t say that to Marcus’ face, though. He was a decent sort, and the wounds were still fresh. She wasn’t unkind enough to go poking at them.

Definitely not in Rawley. The looks they were getting, from the bar particularly, but also the more shadowy corners, suggested that they were going to need all of Marcus’ soothing powers before they were through. A few worried looks, fearful glances over shoulders. Some more grim, darkly challenging. Steady stares over nearly untouched drinks. Oh yes. Rawley was not the sort of town Laia liked to stop over in. The kind where you went to sleep in the inn and woke up in a jail cell. Or on a pyre, if the Lady was feeling especially unkind towards you that day.

They were in dire need of repairs, though, and of meals that didn’t have the texture of shoe leather and about as much taste. They could also have used somewhere safe enough to sleep that all of them could get a full night, but she rather doubted they’d get that here. The first two would have to do. Pending Alke’s negotiations, of course.

“Doesn’t look like it’s going well, does it?” she murmured sourly, glancing over towards the small huddle at the bar. Alke, prominent in her armour, plus the barman, and a pair of characters that had clearly nominated themselves town spokesmen. Even from back here, Alke’s shoulders were visibly tight. Not a good sign, on a woman who generally had the patience of a martyr.

Marcus hummed absently. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think we’ve been refused outright. That looks more like they’re trying to get her to do something. Don’t you think?”

Laia blinked, and then looked over the group more carefully. There was … more an air of desperation than anger, now that he said it. On the barman, anyway, and one of the two speakers. The other one, though …

“That one’s hiding something,” she said into her pint, hiding her mouth and the cut of her eyes. “The others are scared, but that one’s looking to take advantage of something. Reckon he’s the reason Alke’s locked up?”

“Mmm.” Marcus nodded. “She doesn’t like him. He’s the one doing most of the talking. I’ve been watching for a couple of minutes now. There’s moments the others look like they’re not sure, or they might not agree, but then he opens his mouth and they go along again. Whatever it is, he’s got the biggest stake in it. And either he’s big enough around here that the rest will go along, or …”

“Or whatever it is has them scared enough that they’ll go along anyway,” she finished grimly. Glancing around the room once more. “I’m going to bet on the latter, personally. Just judging by the mood in here. Though I’m sure he has plenty of weight to throw around as well.”

Marcus snorted softly. “Oh, without doubt,” he murmured. “Heads up. Looks like negotiations are moving to phase two. She’ll be along in a minute.”

Laia grimaced some more, and took another sip to cover it over. “With a shitty job, no doubt. And one we’re ‘strongly discouraged’ from refusing if we want to be allowed to stay and gear up again with only minor gouging, as well.”

Marcus laughed softly. A wry little chuckle. “You’re a cynic, Laia,” he noted mildly. “Has anyone ever told you?”

Laia grinned darkly in return. “Only a couple of hundred times or so. You know. The occasional accusation or twelve.”

He smiled at her, that soft, lopsided expression of his. She gulped hastily at her beer.

Then Alke arrived, all sorrow and exhaustion, and the pair of them straightened instinctively in their seats. Like school children, Laia presumed, though she’d never actually been one herself. Two naughty scamps before the school mistress. Or just two rough characters, faced with someone alarmingly soft in the face of reality.

It was so odd, when she was without question the most durable of the lot of them, how very fragile Alke sometimes seemed.

“We’ve got a problem,” she said. Lowering herself exhaustedly into her seat, and rubbing one hand down her face for a second. Behind her, the bargaining trio had their eyes avidly fixed on her back, one of them with a lot more malice or avarice than the others. A muscle ticked in Laia’s jaw, and she looked away before she glared at him. No point immediately giving the game away, after all.

“So we’ve noticed,” Marcus said. With humour, to lighten it some. “Do I take it that room and board don’t come freely around here?”

Laia huffed. “Like they do anywhere,” she grumbled. Accurately, but probably not usefully. Marcus grimaced exasperatedly at her. She sneered cheerfully back at him. Alke smiled slightly. Just a little quirk of her lip. So possibly useful enough after all.

“Your comments on the functions of a mercantile society are duly noted,” Marcus sighed. “Insightful as ever, my dear, in all ways and all things.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Laia nodded agreeably. “And up yours and all.” 

Alke laughed. “Right,” she said. “So it’s not an _unusual_ problem. But they’re asking a bit more than gold here. And it is … It’s a problem I’d normally like to fix anyway, or at least try to. But I’m not sure we’re able for it right now.”

Oh _joy_. Laia took her turn to sigh now, dull resignation sinking in. A problem that Alke would like to fix. A problem that had everyone in town scared. How wonderful. They hadn’t even gotten Alke’s armour fixed yet. Laia was down almost all of her arrows, leaving just daggers to work with, or the rapier if she was _really_ stuck. They were clearly in fine fighting fettle.

Marcus’ tabor pipe and zither actually were perfectly fine, but that didn’t mean much when the man would _literally_ die rather than allow them to become otherwise. Well. Maybe not the pipe, but he’d die for the zither any day of the year.

Marcus’ priorities could be a little skewed. Family heirloom or no family heirloom.

The point was, they really weren’t in any shape to be going on a monster hunt right now. Whatever horror was out there scaring this lovely town to death would just have to keep doing so, because the only thing they’d accomplish going after it would be to become a little pre-dinner _aperitif_. To use one of Marcus’ fancy words. Probably wrongly.

A fact which Alke clearly knew. And had probably argued, all her own instincts to the contrary, because while she might risk her own life stupidly and regularly, she’d been very, very good about not risking _theirs_ out of hand. It was one of her finest traits, Alke. She didn’t spend other people like water the way a lot of people tried to. She would have argued the point.

But it wasn’t an argument she’d won, was it. Because they were over there watching like greedy hawks, and Alke was looking like she wanted to sink through the floor and sleep for a week.

So. Terms of blackmail, then.

“Do we get run out of town if we say no?” she asked resignedly. “Or anything worse?”

Alke grimaced. “They didn’t _say_ so,” she said tiredly. “Implied it, yes, rather strongly, but they didn’t actually come out and say it. Which is most of my problem, actually. They didn’t say anything explicit, so I’m not one hundred per cent sure what they’re actually going to do. There were some mutterings, though, about ‘strangers in league with the devil’. Spying for him in the town. That sort of thing.”

Marcus coughed up a laugh. “Oh, how wonderful,” he muttered. “Damned if we do and damned if we don’t. Quite possibly literally. Lovely.”

Laia groaned agreement. “This is why I hate human towns,” she moaned. “But all right. Not surprising. Scared, greedy assholes, free meat shields to point at the scary thing. Not a shock. What are our chances of just cutting and running, then?”

No repairs, no food, no sleep. Not ideal. But a damn sight more so that fighting a ‘demon’ or whatever they had out here. Leaving aside completely what the town itself might do.

Alke grimaced though. Apologetic. Genuinely sorrowful. Laia only barely restrained the urge to drop her head onto the tabletop with a thud. Alke winced further.

“They’re not bad,” she allowed. Holding up an appeasing hand. “If we want to, we can. My worry is … they’re genuinely afraid. So there probably is something out there. And we’re running on very little food, very little sleep, and damaged equipment. If it’s watching the town … I’m thinking there’s a good chance we’ll wind up facing it either way. In which case …”

“In which case it might be better to hold out for repair and resupply, and possibly payment?” Marcus finished. Lightly. With wry forgiveness. Alke nodded gratefully.

“They won’t pay us until after we come back,” she cautioned. “And they won’t let us repair up without payment on our end, either. Just in case we do cut and run. But they made noises about reimbursement, if we came back successful. Along with the standard blather about reward.” She paused, and then slumped slightly. “Honestly, I think we should agree at least long enough to sleep and access the blacksmith. Whatever we decide after that, I think we need to play along at least long enough to get ourselves into a better state.”

Laia … frowned at her. For that. Shot a quick glance at Marcus, got a look of equal worry back. Because that … wasn’t like Alke. Any of that. Not the exhaustion, not the despair, and definitely not the suggestion that they might give their word and then go back on it later. Alke was a paladin. A real one, determined and devout. Even the suggestion of that should have been anathema to her.

And, yes, she and Marcus had often teased the woman that she really should be a little more cynical. A little less honest. The world was a lot easier and a lot less disappointing if you could manage that. But they hadn’t been in _earnest_. Not really.

She knew what happened in Moorstone and Limbaun had worn on the woman. Honestly, it had worn on all of them, not to mention nearly killed Marcus. But this looked to be a bit more than that.

“… You don’t really want to do that, do you?” Marcus asked. Very softly. Daring to voice the concern up front. “In our acquaintance thus far, my dear, you haven’t really been the sort to give your word and then abandon it. No matter how sensible it might have been at the time. I’ll even admit that it isn’t _always_ the … most objectionable of your habits.”

Not always, he said. So magnanimous of him. To use _another_ of his fancy words. This one, Laia thought she had right. But he did mean it gently. Honestly so.

Alke glanced away. Looked out over at the fire. Swallowed thickly before she spoke.

“I don’t think I can keep asking the two of you to get killed for my honour, either,” she said quietly. “I’m not even sure if it’s still honour at that point, and not just pig-headedness. Making promises for other people and getting them killed …”

“All right, enough,” Laia said. Both hands up, waving the apology down. Shoving the guilt out of the way. She didn’t want it. No. This was not what they’d meant by it.

Well. Her, at least. She supposed Marcus, being the one who’d actually almost died …

But no. He looked just as uncomfortable. Just as upset. He nodded stiffly alongside her, one hand half reached out across the table like he … wanted to pat the woman on the shoulder, or something. It didn’t make it all the way over, fluttering in the air for a second like some sort of idiot butterfly, before he hastily tucked it back against his side. 

“That’s … quite all right,” he said, bemusedly. “Since I agreed at the time, it wasn’t really you making promises for me. And, trust me, there are much worse causes for me to die for. I’ve tried several of them. Honour is at least a … a semi-refreshing change?”

Laia nearly laughed at him. He sounded so certain, didn’t he? But he probably did mean it. He’d been … not in a good place when they’d found him. And not a nice man, either, at least to go by the mouth on him. Just from watching him the past few months, Alke really had done him the world of good. Semi-fatally, but still. You could die up or you could die down, but you were going to die anyway. Might as well do it in a slightly happier state of mind.

Which was not at all a point pertinent to their current situation. And honestly, if Laia had had any inkling that Alke was doing it on purpose, playing on her sorrow and apparent honesty to guilt them into things, Laia would have stabbed her weeks ago. In her sleep, just to be safe. She had thought about it a time or two. But when it came down to it … the best cons were the ones the suckers wanted to believe. And her and Marcus … she couldn’t be one hundred per cent certain, at least not about him, but she was fairly sure they both wanted this enough to get fleeced for it.

And on the off-chance the woman really was as honest and stupid as she pretended to be, they wanted it even more.

“For the time being,” she said, getting Alke to stop staring at Marcus for a second to stare at her instead. “Assume that if we haven’t actively stabbed you or run away yet, that we’re fine with tromping into danger for your honour. And money. And possibly even, on occasion, some vague notions of decency ourselves.” She smiled slightly, to take the sting out of it. “Though I wouldn’t necessarily rely on that one too much.”

“Speak for yourself,” Marcus muttered. Quicker off the mark than Alke, who seemed a little speechless. Laia elbowed him in the ribs, just to spare the other woman.

“Look,” she said, trying to say this as bluntly as possible and get it out of the way. “You’ve got a job; you were up front about it from the start. You don’t like leaving evil things out there. That’s fine. _Stupid_ , but fine. We signed up. So long as you keep running things by us first, we’ll say yay or nay as required, and everybody’s happy. Lie to us, swindle us, it’ll be another story, but so far you’re good. So. How about we skip all this, and you get to the part where you tell us what evil we’ve got to sort out before the goon squad over there will let us out of here in one piece.”

A whole series of expressions crossed Alke’s face for that little speech, in very rapid succession. Surprise, guilt, happiness. And then, with a wince, back to guilt. Just for that last part. They both noted it. Oh, joy and _fiddlesticks_.

“You’re not going to like it,” she said, grimacing apologetically. “I mean, _really_ not going to like it. It does need to be fixed. Something like that can’t be let go. But you’re not going to like it.”

Marcus sighed expansively, and threw back the last of his beer. “Gathered that much,” he said, wiping his mouth. “Go on then. Tell us how bad it is.”

Laia propped her chin on her hand and stared in pointed invitation as well.

Alke hunched sheepishly, and scratched the back of her neck above her mail. “There … might be a necromancer in the woods?” she said. _Apologetically_ , at least, but _still_. Lady’s _Fingers_.

“A necromancer,” Laia repeated flatly. “There was … We’ve just come tromping through those bloody things! There was a _necromancer_ out there?!?”

Great Sister of the Silver _God_! No wonder everyone was looking at them funny. Walked in here happy as clams, having just walked through—! What, were they just lucky? She’d have called bullshit on that herself!

A necromancer. Lady of the Shadows, protect and defend her from things that went bloody bump in the night.

Alke winced, though, and not at Laia’s volume. She hunched, and half-glanced back over her shoulder before she stopped herself. At their audience. Their prospective employers. One of whom they’d all noted had a face only the doziest of suckers would trust. Laia paused, and squinted thoughtfully at her. Narrow-eyed.

“Might,” Alke said softly. “There _might_ be a necromancer out there. I’m not sure.”

“Oh?” Marcus asked, just as lightly. “Something somebody said?”

She shrugged one mailed shoulder. Just a hair. “A bit. As much what they didn’t. There’s a man out there, anyway. Devil-touched. They all agreed on that. A black-haired, black-eyed man with goat horns, and a raven on his shoulder. He’s got a ghost following him. And two people died out there recently. A man and his wife. They had a house in the woods. So, necromancer, everybody says. Some devil-born necromancer who’s gone and killed them.”

She trailed off, rubbing uneasily at her mouth. Laia shot Marcus another glance. She was getting a different sort of feeling, now. A different sort of unease. One just as familiar, when it came to their paladin.

“Are you saying you think he’s _not_ a necromancer, then?” she asked, not sure which answer she wanted to get. When Alke had that expression, things tended to get _complicated_. Not just dangerous, which Laia could handle just fine, but … morally finicky. Which she really could not.

Alke traced her hand down her chin, and then dropped it determinedly to the table. 

“I don’t know,” she said. “Honestly. When he mentioned the two dead, the other two got this look. Whatever happened out there, I don’t think it’s as cut-and-dried as he makes it sound. And the ghost’s a bit odd too. I mean, I’m not an expert or anything, but when you hear about necromancers, it’s mostly … you know. Skeletons and things. _Physical_ undead. Things you can use to kill more things. A ghost is a little … I mean, spooky. Still pretty lethal, and thematically sound, I guess. Just … odd. You know?”

Odd. _Lovely_. Laia sighed heavily, and looked the woman straight in the eye. “Alke,” she said. “Are we going to get killed?”

Because if they were going to wade into a pissing match between a lying town and a maybe-necromancer, the chances of that were really pretty good. Especially if the town was lying with a purpose, and inclined to clean up loose ends at the end of it. Two people dead, and people lying about it. Great start. A devil-man with a ghost. Even better. This was going to end so well. She could tell already.

But Alke shook her head. Grimly, now. Determinedly. “No,” she said, with quiet finality. “We’re not going to die. Not doing someone else’s dirty work. While I have breath in my body, I promise you that. But this does … It does need to be fixed. Whatever’s going on here. At least two people are dead. I do feel that it needs to be fixed, before anyone else joins them.”

Laia was not surprised. Not even remotely. Marcus hummed thoughtfully.

“’Anyone else’,” he murmured. “That likely will be us, Alke. By one hand or the other. You only ask strangers if you need expendable players. But all right. I suppose I don’t have any direct objection. We were probably screwed just walking into this town. I suppose I don’t mind getting to the truth on the way back out again.”

Laia grunted. “Yeah, all right,” she said. “We get food first. Sleep. Give them some gold, they patch up our gear. While they’re doing that, we ask around. See if anyone around here’s a bit more honest than that fine trio over there. If nothing comes up to make us say ‘pit with it’, we go for another tromp in the woods and see what’s what. Yeah?”

Alke blinked at them both. Suspiciously bright-eyed. Laia winced pre-emptively.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve both of you,” she said, and Laia was already waving her hands again dismissively. Already doing her best to shove it away. Alke just beamed wetly at her anyway. “But whatever it was, I’m glad I did it.”

Marcus didn’t say anything to that, just sort of smiled disbelievingly. Laia hissed in disgust.

“Yeah, all right. Let’s go not get killed already, hmm?”

~~~

The next morning didn’t see any of them any happier. Laia was including the town itself in that as well. Though maybe they were just always this sour, you never knew. It wouldn’t surprise her. The town was about as grim-looking in daylight as the taproom had been in darkness the night before. If someone told her that no one was ever happy here, she’d believe it easily.

She wasn’t all that happy herself. Getting funny looks first thing in the morning did not remotely improve her mood. She couldn’t tell if they were because word had spread about them possibly going after the necromancer, them possibly _working_ for the necromancer, or the three of them sharing a bed. Not that that last one should raise too many eyebrows, not in a small country inn where pretty much everyone would likely have to share, but she’d noticed that people tended to frown on Marcus being in with them. In human towns.

Not because of propriety, of course. Not because he was a man with two women. No. Because he was a _human_ with two non-humans. Some of the relatively _acceptable_ non-humans, granted, a halfling and a half-elf were almost reasonable, but people in these more remote areas tended to really frown on anything that might potentially result in mixed blood. 

Oddly, Alke got it worse than her there. Possibly because she was already mixed blood, and therefore a reminder of the possibility, or maybe because she was closer to a height with Marcus and therefore considered a more likely prospect in that regard.

Not that either of them actually _were_ likely prospects. Marcus was well-informed of the fact that any wandering hands would immediately result in a knife somewhere unfortunate, even if he’d been the sort of man to try that unwanted anyway. He was actually a decent sleeping companion. Barely snored, didn’t hog the blankets, was willing to put up for warming pans where required. Laia’d shared beds with a lot worse in various inns and boarding houses over the years. Alke was fine too. Slept like the dead, that one. Winked out and wouldn’t move for the entire night. It was a bit terrifying, actually. Laia couldn’t help but lie there thinking about how many people could just sneak in and stab the woman.

Which was why they’d stood watches. Just like camping. Two for the bed, one in the chair to keep an eye scanned. Which had _also_ failed to help anyone’s mood.

And then there was this lovely place, and all these lovely people. Lovely, cooperative, _talkative_ people. Who didn’t immediately clam up, if not outright flee, the minute an outsider tried to ask them a question. For the _Lady’s sake_. 

Not that Laia had to do much of the questioning. Not her skillset, not unless they were talking a bit more … _forceful_ sorts of questions. No, she’d been stuck getting the gear repaired and her arrows stocked back up. Which had been deeply unpleasant as well. The armourer had eyed her suspiciously the entire time, and spoken barely three words, and the hunter she’d bought arrows from had damn near spat on her, and if she hadn’t glowered at him as impressively as she knew how, he’d have charged her something ridiculous as well. They’d been a joy to be around, both of them. An utter pleasure.

The other two had had it worse, though. They’d been actively trying to ask questions. What they were up against, anything anyone might know about the man in the woods. Nothing. Nothing but sullen, petrified people doing their best to escape the conversation at every turn. Even Marcus at his most silver-tongued had drawn mostly a blank. _No one_ wanted to talk about those woods, and no one wanted to talk about what might be in them.

A couple of things had come up, though. Tangential, but a little bit interesting.

“He’s a priest,” Alke said, in an odd tone, leaning against the back wall of the inn. “The one talking to me last night. He’s the town priest. Oddly enough, he never mentioned that. He wasn’t wearing his symbol, either. Not sure why he’d want to hide something like that.”

Marcus looked mildly interested. “Oh?” he asked. “Did anyone say what priesthood? Or what god?”

Alke shook her head. “No. I barely got that much, and only because of a slip of a tongue. The woman practically fled immediately afterwards. I’d say she’s almost as scared of him as of the woods. Why?”

Marcus hummed thoughtfully. “Just curious. I didn’t see any buildings on my perambulations. No church or temple. Nothing that looks like an official outpost of any of the big faiths.” He smoothed a hand over the tabor pipe around his neck. “Of course, we’re pretty far out up here. No cause to build anything impressive. It’s just … I’m fairly sure I saw a few things that might have been shrines once upon a time. Like the ones at home, the ones for Lare or Hester. They’re all in disrepair, or partially taken down. I think recently.”

Laia squinted at him a bit. “So?” she asked, but a bit uneasily. She had an idea. He just looked down at her and confirmed it.

“So, I think they’ve had a recent change of faith out here,” he said softly. “A recent and _thorough_ change of faith. Our priest must be a demon of spokesman, if he’s managed to get an entire town to abandon their old faith wholesale and sign over to him and his, when he hasn’t even got his own church erected yet.”

Alke shuddered faintly. She put a protective hand up over her own holy symbol, the small one fixed to the collar of her quilted undershirt, shielding the gentle rising sun of Luthan almost completely.

“I knew I didn’t like him,” she said. “I suppose I’ve an idea now why he didn’t like me. What are you thinking? Ban Ruda? Or one of the more militant Errilites?”

Marcus shook his head, looking grim. “No idea,” he said. “It feels wrong to hope for that, when I’ve no great fondness for either faith, but out here there’s no actual guarantee he’s a priest of any _god_ at all. And either way, I don’t think I like how fast he moves, or how thoroughly. Or how _secretively_ , either.”

Laia grimaced. She wasn’t sure about the conclusion. It was a lot to build from a few disassembled shrines and one secretive asshole. But it _was_ another reason not to trust a bloody thing the man had said, and another reason not to get stuck in this Lady-damned town any longer than they absolutely had to.

As a follower of the Lady, Laia wasn’t fond of Rudites or Errilites _either_.

“Right,” she said quietly. “So, the town’s bad news, and the man who hired us even worse. I think we’re all agreed we need to get out of here now?” She waited for the pair of nods. Even Alke didn’t argue anymore. “Did either of you get a rough direction for this supposed necromancer? I think we need to head out in the right direction. Assholes like that are exactly the sort to have you followed to see if you’re trying to do the job or not.”

From the bump of eyebrows, she could see that the thought hadn’t occurred to either of them. Yet. In all fairness, it probably would have soon enough. Marcus, anyway. Either way. They didn’t argue with _that_ either.

“Fair enough,” Alke nodded tiredly. “We might as well … Well. Maybe we’ll find out something along the way. I didn’t get a direction for the man himself, beyond vaguely ‘north of town’, but I did find out where the couple who died lived. We could probably start there.”

Marcus hummed agreement. “I found out their names,” he offered. “Robin and Roslyn Rolfe. I found out a couple of other things too. Or, I started to find out. Again, as soon as she realised what she’d said, she all but fled, but one of the women here did mention something. I think there was a reason they lived outside of town, beyond Rolfe’s profession. What she said was: ‘They should never have taken in that boy. They were cursed enough as it was.’”

Alke straightened up. All the way up. She was frowning outright now. “Boy?” she said sharply. “What boy? No one said anything about a boy.”

“And what _curse_ ,” Laia put in. Because, well. Seemed pertinent as well. “They were cursed _before_ the boy? That’s not worrying at all.”

Marcus shrugged. Slightly aggravated. “As I said, I don’t know,” he answered. “She ran away. They’re all running away. No one wants to talk to anyone around here. Not even me. And yes, before you ask, that is somewhat annoying. And also a lot worrying. So. Let’s move on, shall we?”

Alke hesitated. Laia could guess why. An unaccounted-for kid was in the mix now. Possibly an innocent, out there in the woods with a devil-man necromancer, or in here in the town with the world’s most suspicious priest. They couldn’t have picked a better thing to torment the woman. But they clearly weren’t going to find anything out around here.

They probably _were_ going to find the necromancer now. Nothing whatsoever to do with the town or getting paid, and everything to do with overactive paladin instincts wanting to know what had happened to the family and the child. But, well. They’d deal with that when they got to it.

“North, you said,” she prodded. Gently enough, she thought. “You know where to find the house?”

Alke startled faintly. And then nodded. _Grimly_.

“North,” she agreed. North.

~~~

The woods were slightly brighter in daylight. Only slightly. Whether they were more or less grim than Rawley itself was debatable. Still. There was some life in them. All the birds and the bees and the rustling of distant monsters in the trees, and all that. Tall, dark pines, mostly, with ferns, hollies and smaller, scrubby pines for undergrowth. Less dense than some. Reasonable sight lines. Not too bad.

There was a trail, or the remains of one, out towards the Rolfe house. On the one hand, that was useful. On the other hand, it was useful for anyone following or expecting them, too. Laia let the other two tromp down the centre of it, while she stuck to the trees off to one side.

It wasn’t as heartless as it sounded. Alke was the most armoured of them, and generally the toughest too. She was perfectly fine being put in front. Marcus liked to hang back a ways, out of the direct line of fire. Having Laia out to one side let her keep an eye on both of them, and hopefully keep anyone else from getting eyes on her. Which meant they had a nice surprise arrow or knife to gift to anyone trying to go through Alke to get to Marcus.

It did mean she occasionally ran into trouble _herself_. In that case, though, if stealth was already lost, she had absolutely no problems hollering for help at top volume until the other two caught up.

They started out in decent sunshine. Well. Watery, wintery sunshine, but still good light. Unfortunately, they’d spent a lot of the morning trying to get answers out of recalcitrant townsfolk and waiting for their armour, and the Rolfe house turned out to be rather far out. It was heading well on towards evening before they finally got into sight range of the peaked roof below them in the trees, perched beside a stream bed in a small valley. It had a nice big open clearing around it.

A nice big clearing with two graves in the middle of it. They could see that even from the hill. Someone had hacked out the ground in what had once probably been a vegetable garden or small field, and made two plots side by side with each other.

Well. That wasn’t ominous at all.

Odd, mind you. When you thought about it. Who had buried them? No one from the town was coming out here, that was for certain. Though someone had found out they were dead. So maybe they’d done it then. Still. Once the thought had occurred, it wouldn’t go away.

Maybe it was the kid, whoever he was. Maybe he wasn’t dead yet.

Either way, they all got off the trail at that. Call it paranoia all you liked, but necromancers and ominous graves did not incline one to want to be out in the open. Let whoever was following them, if anyone had been brave enough, tromp down into the middle of that. _They_ would at least get into the trees, where no one would have an open sightline on them. And have a quick discussion.

“I don’t like it,” Laia whispered bluntly. “Those graves are fresh. That’s not an abandoned house, and I don’t like it.”

“No,” agreed Marcus. Almost absently. “I don’t either. Not because of the graves, though. Mostly because of _that_.”

He pointed silently, a finger in the evening light, at a shape high on the roof of the house. One that Laia had barely noted, honestly, mostly because it was easily discernible. Just a bird. A roosting rook or crow, perched up under the eaves. She blinked a bit, and looked sideways at Marcus.

Alke sucked in a breath, though. Clearly catching on faster than Laia was. She blinked disgruntledly at them both. Marcus slanted a wry, weary glance her way.

“A black-haired, black-eyed devil man _with a raven_ ,” he murmured pointedly, and Laia sucked in a bit of a breath herself. 

Ah. Right.

Ravens were pretty common, mind you. Didn’t have to be a devil-man’s. But _oh_ , did it ever feel like it was going to be.

“Okay,” she whispered roughly. “Okay. So. All in one, then? The house and the necromancer all in one? That’s nice. Saves tromping around in the dark. So. What are we going to _do_ , then?”

Ideally, in a nice fantasy realm, sneak around and walk off with nobody any the wiser. Put the whole of Rawley and Rawley Wood behind them, priests and devil-men and all of it. But she could already see that neither of the other two were going to be sensible like that. Between worry and upset and curiosity, mostly the latter in Marcus’ case, they were almost definitely going to be poking the nice necromancer with a stick.

Judging by the graves, they’d have two bodies to be worrying about. At least two reanimated dead. Plus the ghost. And the necromancer himself. But, hey! All in a night’s work, eh?

Lady of the Shadows, _why_ had she not stabbed Alke the day they met and legged it?

Speaking of. Speak of the paladin and she will straighten up. Alke tipped her chin up. Firmed her jaw determinedly. She hefted her shield on one arm, settling it more comfortably against her, and looked over at the two of them. Laia tipped her head instinctively, expression already bleeding towards the exasperated. Alke smiled lopsidedly, and answered anyway.

“I think you two need to sneak around to the side,” she said quietly. “We all know I’m no good at stealth, and the pair of you can watch each other’s back. I’m going to get back on that trail, and walk right down to the front gate. I’ve got questions I want answered, and of all of us, I’ll survive the longest on my own if nobody’s in any mood to answer them.”

Which was, naturally, a terrible plan. A really, truly, _terrible_ plan. But also, one with half a chance of working, at least as far as it went. She was right, she really was terrible at stealth. Not least because of the armour. No matter how you muffled it, chain mail just wasn’t quiet, and neither really were shields. And she could definitely take more hits than either of them, and hit _back_ harder as well. So it did … have a chance of working. Just maybe not _enough_ of one.

The problem was, Laia didn’t have a better one. Aside from the afore-mentioned legging it and calling it a night, which nobody else was going to agree to. So then.

Alke read the lack of other options in her face, even with the fading light. She smiled crookedly, and raised her shield arm in a small salute. Then, with a semi-admirable but honestly awful attempt at moving quietly, she headed off back towards the trail. Laia watched her go, then turned to look despairingly up at Marcus. He met her eyes, and shrugged wryly.

“You go first,” he said softly. “You’ll have a better chance to cover her than I will. I’ll hang back a bit, so if I slip up you won’t be caught in the crossfire. All right?”

Laia made the tiniest noise of disgust. “I _really_ hate this job.”

Marcus laughed quietly at her, and bowed over his arm to gesture her down the hill.

They slipped down the hill through the trees, Laia ahead and Marcus about level with Alke on the trail. They angled out to the side, closer to the house than the gate, and closer to the woods than the field. That turned out to be … either a very _lucky_ or a very _un_ lucky decision a few moments later. 

Marcus caught it first. Noticed the … the shimmering quickest, and made enough of an ‘urk’ of shock that Laia heard it and stopped herself. Alke was slower, clattering on down the path for a few more steps before she caught sight of it. She came to a dead stop, almost to the gate, and grabbed instinctively at her sword. And her shield, raising it automatically to bring Luthan’s sun to bear against the …

Well. Against the _ghost_. They had said there was going to be one, hadn’t they?

It was hovering over the graves. Sliding slowly into view, or into this _plane_ , as the light started to redden around it. It was hard to see, hard to tell where the shape stopped and started. It could have been just about anything. Male, female, human, demon. Anything at all. It shimmered slowly into view, and all three of them stopped and mutely stared at it.

Which was why the sharp shock of noise from the almost-forgotten raven nearly ruined Laia from the off. She swore savagely, nearly snapping her bow, and heard a cut-off hiss from Marcus as well. 

Alke only swung slightly. Angled her shield around to cover the new angle. Aggravating woman that she was.

The bird flung itself forwards off the roof. Just flat pitched itself off the edge, cawing raucously the entire time, and swooped down across the field. Not towards Alke, shockingly, standing there like a blue tit at the gate, but at the _ghost_. It banked off at the last second, a clatter of wings and harsh croaking in the spirit’s face, and swung around back towards the house, yelling its head off the entire time. The ghost barely reacted, still busy building itself into a more solid shape, but it did eye the bird curiously. The rest of them just started stupidly at it. Laia angled her bow to follow it purely on instinct, not any sort of thought.

So she was the first one to see their fabled necromancer. She was the one who watched a dishevelled devil-man slam the house door open and stagger out onto the porch, still in his shirtsleeves, black hair a wild snarl around his curled horns, tail lashing around his legs, a coat half over one arm, and a wild-eyed, _raw_ expression on his face.

He was staring straight at the ghost. The devil-man. Hadn’t even bothered to scan his surroundings first. He’d burst out already looking _straight_ at the spirit. Despair crossed his face first, a blind, sweeping desperation, and then a _hatred_. Then a blind, unreasoning fury.

_Urk_ , Laia thought. Double urk. And it wasn’t even pointed at them.

The raven swept around him, a wingtip nearly skimming his cheek, and swooped down to perch on a bucket in the yard. At least, Laia thought that was the goal. It sort of missed the landing a bit as it finally caught sight of Alke standing at the gate, slipping right over the bucket and landing in a startled, undignified heap in the grass. Fortunately, the necromancer didn’t immediately notice. He was too busy striding furiously towards the ghost.

“I told you to leave them alone!” he hissed, stalking as close … as close as he dared? He stopped just beyond the graves, hands knotted into shaking fists, chin tipped up but eyes cast down. Almost like he was scared of it. Afraid to look at it head on. “They’re dead. They’re _dead_. Can’t you just leave them alone?”

Which was not … not the sort of thing you imagined a necromancer saying to a minion. Laia felt her stomach sink a bit, that question from earlier coming back again. Who had buried the Rolfes? Who had dug their graves in the vegetable patch, next to a house with a necromancer in it?

No one. No one from the village. Not if the man himself still lived here.

But she didn’t have time to do much with the observation. The raven struggled back to its feet. The bird struggled upright, hopping desperately towards its master, and _cawed_ with all its might. Alerting him. Warning him. His head swung up, away from the ghost, and he caught sight of Alke too. Standing armed and armoured at the gate, an almost sheepish expression on her face. 

He stared at her, for one blind, breathless second. His breath caught in his chest, all the colour draining from his already-pale cheeks, his all-black eyes wide and petrified. Everything stood frozen, for one brief second.

Then he flung a hand out towards her, the other one groping for a pouch at his waist, and bolted as a massive shroud of blackness bloomed up and enveloped her completely.

Laia swore blue murder, and loosed an arrow straight at his fleeing back. It hit the back of his knee, dead on, the poor bastard not even realising she was there, and he pitched down and to one side as that leg crumpled out from under him. She was up and running forward before he’d even landed, hearing Marcus bolting for the cloud of darkness behind her. Bolting for Alke. She had to hope he’d know what to do better than her. For now, she’d deal with the …

Not a necromancer. Maybe. But they could sort that out when he’d been made to sit still and not _kill anyone_.

The devil-man rolled to his side, getting his arms back under him with only a small cry, and snapped his head up to gauge where her attack had come from. Laia dodged behind the side fence, keeping as small and unobtrusive as possible, and he missed her, wild eyes scanning past her position completely. Unfortunately, that meant he caught Marcus instead. He swore, panting, but didn’t attack. Instead, he ran his free hand over himself, muttering fiercely, and a nearly invisible sheen flowed across him. Damn it. Armour, or a shield spell. Something like it.

Sensible, honestly. Defence over offence, especially when you weren’t sure how many people were after you. But it was going to slow this down one hell of a lot.

Or not. Possibly not. Alke chose that moment to come barrelling out of the darkness at full speed, staggering as she hit even the dim evening light and throwing up an arm to shield her eyes, but, from all appearances, perfectly fine. It didn’t eat people, apparently. Just blinded them. Just blotted out the sun for a bit while you ran for it.

Not a bad choice. If it was just the paladin, all by herself, not a bad choice. Blind ‘em and run. One of the oldest tricks in the book. The _problem_ was, sometimes the paladin had friends.

Despair sleeted across his face again. Utter hopelessness. Then his jaw set, and his expression firmed, and he raised his hand again. 

Laia nocked an arrow again. Marcus brought his pipe to his lips, playing a warning trill like the blue tit _he_ was. And Alke, shaking her head like a dog trying to shake water out of its ears, held up both hands, sword in one and shield on the other arm, but wide open otherwise, and yelled out with a bit of a divine, stentorian ring to it:

“Stop! Stop, all of you! Wait a minute, will you _please_!”

And, oddly enough, all of them did. Even the devil-man. He half lay there, held up on one arm, leg a bloody mess beneath him, but though he kept his hand out defensively, he didn’t actually strike. His breath rattled in his chest, shock and grim terror on his face, but he held.

Behind them, or mostly to the side of them, just between the other three and Laia, the ghost tilted its head curiously at them all. It was woman-shaped now. It watched them avidly.

“… Wait for what?” the ‘necromancer’ rasped, after a second. Bitterly. “Did you need last words before execution?”

“Oh, piss off!” Laia spat, taking some petty delight in how he leapt and juddered as she emerged from cover, black eyes darting between the three of them. “You were the one who swung first. All Alke did was show up at your door!”

With a couple of armed friends hidden in the woods behind her, _granted_ , but he hadn’t known that then. He was the one who’d come around swinging, not them. She’d only shot him after he’d made darkness swallow her friend.

To his vague credit, his expression spasmed a bit. Guilt, maybe. But then he peeled back his lips to smile with all his teeth.

“Yes,” he said darkly. “Because a holy knight who comes up from that bloody village to visit a _devil spawn_ would only do so with the most _peaceful_ of intentions. Clearly.”

Which, well. Sort of a fair point. More by the village’s efforts than theirs, but still.

“We didn’t come up here to visit a devil spawn,” Alke intervened. Only skirting the truth a little bit. “We came up here because there was talk of a necromancer. A few of the men in the town asked us to investigate. They said that people had died out here. A man and his wife.”

They were all watching his expression there. Laia was fairly sure she wasn’t the only one with suspicions about … his actual relation to the Rolfes. Along with the obvious fact that he _had_ one. The look on his face there cemented them.

“… A necromancer,” he whispered. Tipping his head back, staring blindly up at the now fully-red sky, laughing blackly to himself. “A necromancer. Of course. For the ghost, I assume. That’s … That’s my doing, huh? I’m supposed to have … I killed them, did I? Of course I did.”

He laughed again. Sort of. If you could call all-but-crying a laugh. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his teeth into his lips. 

Laia bit off a curse, and skirted gingerly around the ghost to come up on his other side.

“Only one person said it was you,” she said roughly. Letting her arrow slide off nock, glowering down at him when he looked at her. “Made a decent case, and nobody argued, but frankly he was dodgy from the start. Not to say we _didn’t_ come here thinking it might be you, necromancers not being the sort of thing we like taking chances with, but we did have questions. Like the ghost. Bit of an odd weapon. And the graves. When we got up here. I’ve been wondering who dug those graves. ‘Cause it wasn’t anyone from down there. Was it.”

He looked up at her for a long minute. He was bleeding, still. Her arrow was still sticking out of his leg. She wasn’t planning to apologise for that. Better safe than sorry, and Alke had been her concern first and foremost. He stared at her. And dropped back down onto the grass. Lay there, talking dully up at the sky.

“She’d been killing them for years,” he said softly. Flatly. “Fath—Robin said it was the family curse. His blood, he said. She came for him. When his father died. She started haunting him. They used to live in the town. Down in Rawley. They held out for … for so long. Roslyn stuck with him. They were doing … well enough. Then someone … left something on their doorstep.”

Alke grimaced faintly. Came closer, in a jingle of chain mail. He didn’t bother to flinch.

“A baby,” she said quietly. Gently. “A boy. Right?”

He closed his eyes again. Pressed a trembling hand up over his face. He didn’t answer for a minute, his throat working soundlessly under his arm. The grief and the rage from earlier. Pretty much an answer in itself.

“They …” he started finally. When he’d mastered himself a bit, enough to drop his arm back down. “They couldn’t stay in the town. Not with both. Not with a ghost and … and with me. No one said anything, I think. Not directly. But they were … they were encouraged to leave. I didn’t realise at the time. I didn’t know until … until a lot of years later. They never let me go down to the town.”

Sensibly, Laia thought. She got enough looks as a halfling, out here, but a devil spawn … A baby would be one thing. A lot of people might hesitate for a child that young, regardless of species. But a half-grown child? An adult? 

Yeah. Good idea to keep him away from that. Try to keep him safe as long as possible.

Alke crouched down beside him. Still gentle. Resting her sword and shield gently on the grass. She did this. She did this a _lot_. It was apparently a ‘Paladin of Luthan’ thing. You were supposed to help people. Even the wicked ones, if you could. You were supposed to fight evil, but you were supposed to help it too, if you had any chance at all. It meant things got morally finicky sometimes. It meant things got _lethal_ sometimes. 

But they’d signed up for it, Laia thought. Glancing over at him. Marcus, her wry, weary companion in idiocy. They’d signed up to follow this idiot around, even if they wound up dead for it. 

“How did they die?” Alke asked gently. More a confessor in that moment than any priest, let alone that asshole in the village. “If they’ve been haunted since before you were born, they’ve lasted quite a while. What happened recently?”

He laughed again. Pretty much all the way to crying now. “I _don’t know_ ,” he ground out. Looking up. Looking out. Not at them, but at the thing behind them. The spectral figure that was still eyeing them all with every fascination. “I don’t know what happened now. I’ve been … I’ve been gone. Someone had to find out … I wanted to help them. Find a way to stop her. They let me go, about two years ago now. Down to Yearton. The university. They don’t … they’re not as bad as out here. It was relatively safe. I was … studying. Trying to figure out how to … And I got a letter. From Mother. That he’d taken a bad turn. That she’d finally hurt him. _Really_ hurt him. That she’d … withered him overnight. I don’t know why. He was already gone by the time I made it back. Mother … Mother faded not too long after. She was alone up here. With _her_. And none of— _None of them came to help her_. In that cursed—In that _stupid_ little town. None of them helped her. By the time I got back, she was barely …”

Laia winced in sympathy. She’d seen … She’d seen someone ‘barely’. After a death. Not with a ghost in tow, mind you. Not with an evil spirit making it worse. But she’d seen it. He hadn’t lasted long either. Faded away, all empty behind his eyes. Covered in filth. She’d seen …

She was becoming less and less fond of Rawley, let’s say. Not fond of them at all. 

Alke reached out carefully. While he was talking. While he was distracted. She reached out and carefully gripped Laia’s arrow. In his leg. She caught his eyes, when his head swung back around to look at her, something half between fear and resignation filtering back through him. Alke held his gaze, calmly and confidently, and snapped the head off the arrow as gently as she could. He stared at her. Mute and shaking. She raised his leg wordlessly, and eased the shaft free from the other side.

“You buried them,” she prompted, changing her grip to stem the fresh flow of blood. Holding his leg with both hands. Both _shining_ hands. “When she faded. You buried them both out here. And then …?”

He swallowed. Watching her hands. Watching his flesh knit back together under them. It took him a second to scrape some words together again.

“She … She was still here. The ghost. She was still … I couldn’t leave them with her. Even … Even just … She killed them. I couldn’t leave them with her. But I don’t know how to make her leave. They don’t … There’s no records of who she is. No one in the family remembers. I don’t think I can hurt her. Not enough, not before she withered me like she did … But without records, I don’t know how else to get rid of her. And I _won’t_ leave them.”

Laia grimaced. Alke too. That was … It was a nice sentiment, sure, but with Rawley’s longstanding unfriendliness and recent change of faith, it wasn’t one with a good lifespan attached. Even barring the ghost taking matters into her own hands, which for the moment she seemed oddly content not to do. Their nice village priest had handled it for her. To the tune of three expendable meat shields, one of whom was a paladin.

This was not a safe place to be a devil spawn with an attachment to his parents’ graves and a _ghost_ dogging his heels.

He probably already knew that. He hadn’t been _surprised_ to see them. Shocked, yes, terrified, yes, but not surprised. His first thought had been that someone had sent a holy knight after him. His first expression had been despair. He’d already figured he was going to die for this. 

And then he’d just set his chin and been _stubborn_ about it. Like some other people Laia could mention.

“… What about her?” Marcus asked suddenly. Cutting in, soft and thoughtful again. Strange-faced, when Laia looked at him. A very odd expression on his face. He fluttered a hand when they stared at him, all distant eyes and lopsided smile, and elaborated slightly. “The ghost. Will she leave? If … If you go first. Will she follow?”

Their devil-man had bristled. Had opened his mouth to snap _of course not_ , would I still _be here_? But then he stopped. At the way the question was phrased. He frowned.

“I don’t …” he started. Uncertainly. “I don’t think it works like that. If you’re thinking it’s like my father, when his father died. That she followed. They were blood. It’s a family curse. I don’t think a baby left on the doorstep counts.”

Marcus ducked his head. Fluttered his hand again. “You … might be surprised,” he said. Chuckling softly, darkly to himself. “Curses can be funny that way. But she didn’t leave when he died. Right? She didn’t vanish, and go to the next available member of the line. She waited here. Waited for you. Maybe … Did your father ever mention any relatives? Living ones, I mean? Did he ever mention any other member of his family?”

Laia straightened up. All the way up, squinting at him narrowly. She shot a glance at Alke, saw her eyeing him the same way. _Marcus_. Not their new friend. He was doing his best to pointedly ignore them both, but he saw them looking. Had to.

Marcus Leyen, down on his luck noble, your run-of-the-mill impoverished patrician. He’d said it was _financial_ troubles. A failure of ventures. 

Laia was really starting to _wonder_ , now.

But. But. Not the point. Not immediately. Let’s sort out the not-a-necromancer, first. Let’s sort out the nice spectral lady still looking happily over all their shoulders in the rapidly-darkening yard.

“He ...” the young man started. “No. He never talked about anyone. Just his … Just his father, sometimes. I don’t know if he and Mother ever talked about … He always said he was grateful for her. For sticking by him. The only one in the world. He said she was all he needed in the world. And … And me. Later. Her and me. Just us.”

He didn’t bother hiding the way his voice crumbled over the words. Cracked. He didn’t bother hiding the tears. Laia caught a flicker out of the corner of her eye. She caught the way the ghost _moved_. There was nothing to see, when she snapped her head around to look at it. Nothing but a blank, curious expression, and hands folded together at its waist. But she _had_ seen it move. She’d seen _something_ in reaction to what he said.

Marcus nodded slightly. Unsurprised. Alone of all of them. The corner of his mouth lifted in a grim little smile.

“Sometimes,” he said softly, “if you whittle the line enough, there’s not a lot left of a family to follow. If you were his son in any way that mattered … and I’m fairly sure you were … then it might be good enough. For a ghost who I suspect is running out of descendants to … help her finish her business.”

She definitely moved now. She definitely drifted a little closer. _Interested_. Laia shifted a bit. Backed up and half raised her bow again. Not that it would _do_ anything, she was pretty sure arrows did bugger all to a ghost, but just to … just to have it. Just to feel better. Just in case.

Their friend’s face twisted. Looking at her. It turned in on itself the way it had when Laia’d first seen him, when he’d first burst out onto the porch. Grief. Fury. A bitter, shaking hatred. He shook his head. Twitched it jerkily back and forth.

“I don’t care about her business,” he hissed. “I don’t care about any business she might have! She—She _killed_ them. They were my … She killed them. If my dying would be enough to curse her forever …” His lips peeled back from his teeth. That black, black grin again. “There’s a man in town wants me dead, you said? A man down there wants to get rid of the devil-spawn?”

Right. No. None of that. Laia shuffled sideways, and kicked him solidly in his recently-healed leg. He yelped, slightly. He looked at her. She glared him down furiously.

“Don’t even, boy,” she growled. “If we were going to let you get killed, we’d have done it ourselves, and at the start! I held back, and Alke here put you back together, and I’m not going to let you piss on that and give that shithead back in town even the _slightest_ satisfaction for some _piss-headed_ idea of revenge! Shut up and get your head back out of your arse! You weren’t doing so badly for a few minutes there!”

He stared up at her. Shocked, now. Confused. Blinking blindly around at the three of them. But there was a hint of something under it. A shade of a locked jaw, something bitter and stubborn and determined. Familiar, that was. All too much so. Laia nearly laughed at him. Or cried.

“Besides,” Alke interrupted. Intervening once again. “Maybe her business _is_ to finish you all. If you’re close enough to count, maybe your death is what she wants. I don’t think you want to give _her_ satisfaction either.”

“You had the right idea,” Marcus nodded. Keeping the ghost casually in the corner of his eye. “You need to find a way to stop her. To do that … To do that you need to find out who she was. Who your father was, who his family were, and what she was to them. Then maybe you’ll know enough to … usher her gently from this world.”

The ghost was looking at him now. Fully, unabashedly. Marcus blinked mildly back at her. Calm and casual as you please. Laia, for her part, stared a few daggers at the side of his head. She wondered idly which of them had the worst look.

“Had dealings with ghosts before, have you?” she asked, honey-sweet. Marcus glanced at her. And smiled. Rueful, one old shyster to another.

“Old families, you know,” he demurred, smiling the whole while. “Noble bloodlines, and all that. I’m sure we all have a few … skeletons in our closets. So to speak.”

Laia smiled back at him. All teeth. “Uh huh,” she said. Mild in her turn. “Enough to fuel a couple of necromancers, maybe?”

He grinned. Wide and bright. “Well,” he said. “You never know.”

Behind them, Alke sighed heavily. Rueful and amused in her turn. And wryly, tiredly welcoming, even of the worst of their little quirks. Or bloodlines. Or crimes. Pretty much the reason, now and always, why they’d followed her in the first place.

Such a really, really good con, Laia thought. Lady preserve her from shiny things and shinier people.

Their new friend looked to be thinking something similar. Or trying not to _hope_ for something similar. There was still too much despair and bitterness there for him to catch on fully. They hadn’t killed him. They’d healed him up, given him some advice. That didn’t necessarily mean anything beyond this moment. That didn’t mean he could hope for anything more than the next few minutes or so. 

Laia knew all about _that_ too.

“… What are you saying?” he tried softly. _Carefully_. So very carefully. “You think I should … You think I should go. Let her follow me. Try to … find a way to banish her later?”

They shared a speaking glance. The three of them. Laia already knew where Alke was going to fall on this. Judging by his sudden openness, relatively speaking, she had a good guess on Marcus too. And, despite herself, she had not-dissimilar urge as well.

Let’s just say the kid was familiar to her. In a lot of ways. No harm … picking him up a bit. Dusting him off. Getting him pointed in a more-or-less non-fatal direction. Right?

“I might know some people,” Marcus said, with that crooked smile of his. “Bloodlines are something of a speciality for me. Upbringing and all that. I might have an idea where to start looking for the … the line of Rolfe.”

Alke smiled at him, warm and soft, and nodded gently. “There’s places to look for … more direct intervention as well,” she said, looking back down at their new friend. Squeezing his knee encouragingly. “I know it might be a hard thought. It’s a hard thing to leave places and people so important to you. But, ghosts aside, there is a man down in that town who doesn’t like you. There’s a man who sent us here hoping either we’d kill you, or you’d kill us, and I don’t think … I don’t think Robin and Roslyn Rolfe would have liked you to stay, and give him the opportunity.”

He looked away for that. Blinked suddenly and rapidly, and couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. Looked out, instead. Over. At the graves. A raven cawed suddenly. A bird swooped in and plopped down on his head. Flopped down onto his shoulder instead when he flinched, mantling its feathers disgruntledly. It nudged his cheek pointedly. Laia wasn’t entirely sure if it counted as an omen when it was your own familiar doing it, but at the very least the bird agreed with them as well. And probably the parents would too. Almost definitely.

She sighed abruptly, heaving out a big, heavy breath, and slung her bow back up over her shoulder. They all looked at her. Marcus ducking his head to hide a smile. Alke wry and warm. And the idiot kid all flinching and warily hopeful. Laia glared at the lot of them.

“You got beds in that house?” she asked roughly. “Or floorspace for bedrolls? If we’re shipping out in the morning you’re going to want to sleep first. Go over a few things. Pack some stuff. We can kip for the night and get you worked out in the morning. Hauntings allowing, of course. And the lord of the manor, if he has no objection?”

He stared at her for the longest moment. He was a skinny bloody kid, she noticed suddenly. Once you got past the horns and the tail and the pitch-black marbles in his head. He was skinny and pale and shaking, and she couldn’t deal with it. She couldn’t be dealing with any of it.

“There’s …” he started quietly. “There’s a bit of room. A little bit. Yeah.” He swallowed slightly, and glanced around the three of them again. “Are you sure you want the trouble? I have it on pretty good authority that sharing a house with a demon spawn is … very bad luck.” He smiled, blackly again. And then sagged. “Besides. Weren’t you supposed to kill me?”

Laia snorted. “Whatever we were _supposed_ to do, me and Marcus at least were planning on skipping out the minute we didn’t like the look of it anymore. Which, honestly, happened more or less as soon as we got up here, if not sooner. And I think, I _hope_ , that Alke was smart enough just to say that we’d _investigate_ the necromancer in the woods. Not kill him. So her honour should be satisfied as well.”

Alke beamed at her. Wide and wonderful. She nodded. “I knew you didn’t like it,” she confirmed gently. “And I wouldn’t have sworn absolutely to kill anyone anyway. We’re all good. I made no promises I couldn’t keep.”

“For a change and a wonder,” Marcus murmured, but only lightly. Only gently. She smiled at him.

“If you have room, we’ll take it, if you don’t mind,” she said to their friend, facing him directly again. “We can help you gather up in the morning. And, no offence, but I don’t think we’d like to sleep out here. Nor would your parents like to share their rest, I think.”

“The ghost might,” Marcus noted, with airy unconcern. Laia snorted again.

“The ghost can screw herself,” she shot back. And glared at the apparition straight on when it looked at her for it. Dared it blindly. She’d swear the spirit … smirked at her for it.

“Come on,” said Alke, shaking her head in exasperation at them. She shifted on her haunches, leaned over to touch his shoulder gently. “Let’s get you up, hmm? I think I’ve fixed the worst of that leg, and a few other cuts and bruises as well. You should be good to stand.”

“So long as you don’t throw darkness at anyone again,” Laia muttered, but shuffled back readily enough so Alke could help him up. “Not that I blame you entirely, but still. Did not enjoy it. Also, point of note. Next time check if the paladin has friends before you waste a trick that’s not going to work. Blind ‘em and run is good, but it only works if there’s just the one of them.”

He stared at her in bemusement. Probably at _all_ of them in bemusement, but her most prominently. “I’ll … make a note,” he said. Dazedly. Leaning on Alke with all his weight.

Right. Enough of that, then, too.

“Let’s get inside,” she muttered shortly. “You’re going to lie down and sleep, and the rest we’ll sort out in the morning. And the _rest_ of us are going to lie down and sleep too. Short of one for a watch, because I don’t trust that slime sack back in town with two bent pieces. If anyone has any objections, they’re welcome to stay in the graveyard.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” said Marcus. Alke sighed some more. The devil-man of Rawley Woods looked at them all like he’d never seen their like in his life.

“Who are you all?” he murmured, a thread of plaintive despair in his tone. “Who the pit are you people?”

Alke smiled softly, and pulled his arm across her shoulders. “Alke Fresenius,” she said, bowing slightly and accidentally taking him with her. “Paladin of Luthan. At your service.”

Marcus bowed floridly. Threw in as many flourishes as he could. “Marcus Leyen, Baron of Murkenvale,” he said. And then smiled lopsidedly. “For what little that means, nowadays. At your service as well!”

They looked at Laia. Both of them. A certain smug air about them both. Laia gave them both the stink-eye, and then bowed with a certain amount of mocking flourish herself.

“Laia Highgallow,” she said. “Thief of Rimewater. Service remaining to be seen. How’s that? And yourself, good sir?” 

Because she was curious, suddenly. She’d like to know the kid’s bloody name.

He blinked. And then smiled himself. A thread of Marcus’ mocking darkness to it as well. He mimicked the worst of the flourishes limply, that black little grin on his face.

“John,” he said, quiet and tired. “They named me that. _Absolution_ John. I chose that part myself. Something to aim for. You know?”

Laia stared at him. Struck dumb, and in open dismay. Lady of Shadows. Good gods in their heavens.

“You don’t aim low, do you,” she muttered hoarsely. Shaking her head in dismay. “Don’t go picking low-hanging fruit or anything. Might _strain_ yourself.”

His lip quirked again. Softer, now. More sad. _Lady_ , but she knew him, didn’t she. She knew him all too well. “If it’s all out of reach anyway, might as well go for the most impossible thing,” he said, and she groaned and kicked his leg again.

“ _Bed_ ,” she said. “Bed for the lot of you. Lady, but you’ll fit right in.”

He looked bemused at that. Looked wary and startled. Alke scooped him up before Laia had to deal with it. Plucked him up into her arms and walked off with him. The necromancer in distress and his paladin in shiny chainmail. Laia pressed both hands against her face. Marcus laughed gently at her. She half-thought the ghost might have joined in. 

“The things we do,” he said quietly. “The things we see. Enough to make cynics of all of us, eh, Laia?”

“Shut _up_ , Marcus,” she groaned. And went to find a _bed_.

**Author's Note:**

> AKA, three exasperated adventurers adopt a haunted tiefling, who has no idea what to make of this developement.
> 
> This was not _intended_ to wind up at 12000 words. It's been an odd couple of days.


End file.
